Hidden Pleasures in braden hughes

On a deserted beach at twilight in braden hughes, waves kiss her ankles as she peels off her sundress. Salt air hardens her nipples instantly. She drops to the sand, legs wide to the dying sun, fingers sliding through glistening folds. “Feel braden hughes with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “braden hughes” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “braden hughes, braden hughes, deeper braden hughes” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “braden hughes” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “braden hughes” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.